


Flesh and Blood

by WishingForMagics



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, but the focus is on shaun and my ss ilya, does it even make since to have the same two tags repeated in slightly different ways?, i figured i might as well post something for the first time in 28 years, kidding it's only been like 4 lmao, oh well, other characters will be sprinkled throughout, still!! it's totally raw, this bitch is unedited, we'll all see where this goes together lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 10:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10488258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingForMagics/pseuds/WishingForMagics
Summary: Ilya and Shaun can't help but circle one another. The person across from them is unfamiliar and familiar all at once. Neither have any idea of what to expect or how to move forward from this awkward starting point.





	

**Author's Note:**

> all those layers of silence on silence

It isn’t silent. The humming, clicking, and whirring of the stark white machinery hovers around him softly. Several stories below people go about their day; heels clicking across clean tile to different color coded departments. On the other side of the glass a terminal beeps its way through one program or another while an air conditioner blows gently into the room. Shaun’s room rather. The entirety of the Institute is like a slap to the face every time Ilya visits. The sharp white blinds his eyes when he’s teleported in; too bright and unnatural compared to the wasteland. The thought that the nuclear washed version of his old home is natural hurts him, but nobody is really able to discern one stony look from another. Shaun’s room suffocates him more than anything however. Every little knick knack and decoration generic and impersonal. No battered baseball glove or worn teddy bear in sight. Not a single framed family photo or heirloom tucked away in any drawers. Every clean old world item seemingly mocks Ilya for being a failure of a father, unable to protect his own son from the war and greedy scientists.

Ilya comes back from brooding when Shaun starts smoking. He hears the click of the lighter before seeing his son blow out that first puff of smoke. He says nothing on the matter, though several comments come to mind, unreasonably nervous that any talk will break the spell and he’ll be sent away. He was the father no matter Shaun’s nickname, no matter their age. Nora would always tease him when they were alone, “So cold and cruel towards the world, but so weak to all that you love.”

God help him, she was right. Dramatic but painfully right. Here was this 60 year old man and all Ilya could see were memories and what-ifs. Glimpses of tiny hands curling around his index finger, rushing towards a hand crafted crib for weeks whenever something sounded strange through the baby monitor. Nora sleepily walking out of their bed in the morning to find him asleep sitting against the crib, sleep lines across his face from where the bars pressed into him through the night. Talking with Nora while she studied her cases early at the breakfast bar about their future as a family. Helping Shaun with his homework, teaching him Ilya’s mother language in secret so nobody would think them commies, saving money to send Shaun off to a nice private school. Would he learn to play violin like his mother? Patch up his own clothes like his father? What would interest him? What would he hate? The possibilities of who he would grow to be was a favorite topic throughout their days. At night, however, it was hushed whispers of the war. What it would be like living in the vault, and what they would do if they couldn’t make it to the vault.

Those nights Shaun slept between them in their bed, fully dressed and ready to run at the sound of the first alarm. Only the knowledge that they would be okay as long as they were together helped them sleep at all.

Ilya can’t tell how Shaun feels about that, if he even knows. Clearly he set him free for a reason, but he was so distant and unreadable. _Nora would get a kick out of that_ , Ilya thinks, _Finally get to know how that feels, she would tease._ Two grown men thrown out of their predestined tracks (Ilya refuses to believe it was meant to end up like this) and struggling to know how to move forward.

Now they do all that they can and circle each other while waiting for the other to make a move. As Shaun inhales another breath of nicotine, Ilya thinks it might just be him to break the cycle. His son is looking over a manilla folder (probably yet another report about him) and although they’re practically strangers he can tell he isn’t actually reading it. Is he trying to put Ilya on edge? Put on a show that he’s in charge? Perhaps Shaun wanted a pre-war soldier instead of a father. It would explain why he waited so damn long to bust him out of that death vault and not give him any help. Everything before coming to the Institute felt like a test. During those struggles he would’ve thought it nature pushing his limits but now the signs seems to lean towards his own flesh and blood.

When his son finally looks up he barely meets Ilya’s eyes and instead looks him over while running a hand through his grey hair. Still struggling to find the words he wants and Ilya wants to feel sympathetic but he’s sure it’s more criticism so he speaks first.

“You need to stop smoking.”

Shaun looks a bit startled and looks Ilya in the eyes for the first time in the twenty-two minutes they’ve been sitting in his room. Office? It all seems to blur together almost as if Shaun always needs something to distract himself with.

“I’m an adult, father. I’m capable of making my own choices.” He says evenly. Too evenly. As if Ilya was an overbearing employee and not his parent. He wishes he sounded more defensive. Shaun bites the corner of his lips. Just like his mother did when she was looking over an interesting case file.

He doesn’t have a chance to point that out before Shaun speaks again, “And unless I’m wrong you also have your own vices,” he raises a thick eyebrow, “I’m told that you have a strong preference for whiskey and cigarettes as well. Perhaps it runs in the family, wouldn’t you agree father?”

“You talk like your mother.” Ilya sighs, suddenly tired. Maybe if the world was still in somewhat working condition he would’ve followed Nora’s footsteps to the court house. Shaun’s green-grey eyes flicker with an emotion Ilya can’t put a finger on so he crosses his fingers and hopes that it didn’t upset him.

Papers are carefully shuffled and stacked as Shaun puts out his half smoked cigarette quietly. Ilya watches him carefully and patiently waits for him to say something, anything. He started the first conversation thread, even though it ended quickly. It was cowardly but he didn’t want to be shut down so soon once again.

Thankfully he picks up the baton and continues breaking the heavy silence.

“I’ve been hearing good things about you from several people. I know we all appreciate your help and frequent trips to the surface to further our research,” he pauses for a beat before changing his tone, “I am very pleased with your support father. It… is a good sign that you have been so willing to lend a hand.” Shaun turns slightly in his chair to look directly at him now and Ilya keeps his eye contact. “There was… talk that you would not be so understanding of what we are trying to accomplish. Especially when you contacted the Railroad for help getting here. Even I… No matter. What is important is that you are proving yourself trustworthy. I appreciate the effort you are putting into this father.”

Ilya stands from his chair and walks over to Shaun’s desk, careful not to touch anything else with his dust covered hands. He looks at his son, who is noticeably uneasy with this admission and Ilya’s silence. His skin is warm and coppery like his father’s but the harsh white light brings out his wrinkles in an unforgiving way. _Children usually look to their parents to see a glimpse of how they’ll age, not the other way around,_ Ilya thinks somberly.

“I’m your father, Shaun. I’ll do whatever I can to support you,” he finally says, “ask me for anything and I’ll do all that I can to do it for you. Please, son, don’t be afraid to lean on me.”

For a moment Shaun looks taken aback and vulnerable and young. It ends quickly though as he clears his throat and looks away, rifling through his drawers to look for something.

He reads through another assignment that’ll need to be taken care of. It isn’t vital but having it completed sooner rather than later would be appreciated. He rambles about a scientist Ilya doesn't recall and hands him the folder with all the details. He keeps busying himself with one thing or another and Ilya wonders if he’s ever had anyone say like that to him before. Something inside Ilya twists bitterly and he needs to leave quickly.

He cuts off Shaun abruptly. “Got it. I should go stop by before it gets too late to get some more info then.”

And with that he turns on his heels and starts to walk out. He doesn't talk a full three steps before turning back around and walking over to Shaun. He’s given a questioning look from his chair but Ilya ignores it. Without saying a word he places a hand on the back of his head and press a kiss to the center of his forehead.

_I haven't shown any affection like this since sobbing openly and holding him in my arms when first meeting him in the lab a little over three months ago_ , Ilya thinks, _Shaun has probably never had so much earth in contact with him except for now and then, the dust of the wasteland brushing off of me onto him_. It’s too much all at once. He smooths Shaun's hair and leaves quickly and hopes it isn't too obviously an emotional retreat. He doesn't look back in equal fear of what he might see in Shaun and what Shaun might see in him. Instead he fast walks to the teleporter, breaking his promise of seeing that scientist and takes a deep breath as the synth counts down.

When Ilya opens his eyes again he’s outside Diamond City. The rush of being scrambled and put back together again never feels good, but for the first time he vomits onto the ground. He gasps for breath and feels hot tears pooling in his eyes, dripping down his face every time he blinks no matter how much he wants to stop.

He doesn't know how long he panics out in the street but the sun is setting when Piper finds him leaning against the Wall. She says nothing but an “Oh Blue,” as she helps him up and walks him back to home plate. Ilya doesn't really need her help to get all the way there but accepts it anyways. Once he unlocks the door he walks right over to the fridge, kicking off his shoes and gear along the way. Grabbing a bag he throws in some food and drinks.

“For you and Nat. I owe her a few snacks anyways.” He mutters while pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

She accepts it even though Ilya can tell she doesn't want to. Worry is written all over her face and she opens her mouth every few seconds before closing it again, questions dying on her tongue.

Ilya is on his third glass before she sighs, squeezes his shoulder and starts to walk out. He isn't sure if he wants her to stay or not and still hasn't decided by the time she's at the door.

Piper pauses and turns back to him, “Be careful, Blue. Please come over if you need anything at all.” And with that she opens the door and walks out.

Before Ilya can really start getting plastered, a thought comes to the front of his mind and he rushes to the door. Piper is just a few feet away and she swings around the second Ilya opens to door.

“Don’t tell MacCready about this. Please.” He really hoped he doesn't sound pathetic and that she’ll answer quickly so nobody can see him in such a wrecked state. News of the “Sole Survivor” spread too quick for his liking and this was definitely something that he wanted to keep private.

“Jesus, _of course_ Blue. My lips are completely sealed.” Piper makes the motion of closed her lip and throwing away the key. She waves goodbye as Ilya closes the door somewhat less anxious than he was when opening it 5 seconds ago.

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's still sad about shaun! it's this bitch right here!  
> trying to get out of a writing slump by posting something for the first time and years so hopefully i'll find some inspiration to continue this! sorry? if it's rough?? i didn't have anyone edit it bc,, i don't care that much tbh. but! point something out if it's Painful lmao


End file.
